


Kept Woman

by Shatterpath



Series: First and Third [2]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Backstory, Banter, Gen, Idiots in Love, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 01:39:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3591504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatterpath/pseuds/Shatterpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Really, Angie should have called her mother back.</p>
<p>Picks up on the heels of 'It's a Start'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kept Woman

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first of an overarching theme of family and acceptance in my little 'verse. I was inspired by a bitchin' prompt that I will put up in the most relevant tale, once I get there.
> 
> This may be the longest, most drawn-out slow burn I have ever dabbled in. Hope you're in for the long haul! Also, regular readers, note that the chronological order of this series keeps changing as I add in missing scenes. Sorry for the confusion.
> 
> Random funnies: (3-13-15) While sussing out Stella and Charlie's personalities, I broke Ariestess' brain by joking about Regina Mills and Gomez Addams were a great inspirations. Her expression made me laugh and laugh. I do love my job.  
> Or….  
> Me (in IM): Miss Angie gonna be in TROUBLE  
> Friend: Isn't that her middle name? ;)

It was a comedy of errors that started it. Stella Martinelli, curious about all that her lone daughter was clearly leaving unsaid, went in search of her own answers. It had been more than a week since Angie's insane phonecall and not a peep since. How was a mother not to worry? Howard Stark, a woman employer, a house with eight bathrooms in Riverdale? That one's dramatics had always been epic and Stella never could tell what the truth was. 

The rare trip from deep in Brooklyn to downtown went quickly enough in the chilly afternoon and Stella made her way to the barely familiar location where Angie worked. Only to find the L&L Automat still showing the signs of some sort of… altercation and a manager still steamed under the collar. 

"Look, lady, I ain't seen Martinelli since two weeks ago when a buncha spooks and some wacky dame got lathered up and trashed the place. When you find that kid of yours, tell her not to bother to come back after up and bailin' out without so much as a so's your old man! Now, if you 'scuse me, I'm a little short handed."

While normally Stella would have a sharp word or two for such rudeness, she was too puzzled and concerned by the collection of clues and half-truths. That wild spirit of a daughter had given her half the silvery strands that had been invading her curls for a decade now, honestly. Charlie might think them beautiful, but she was too young to be gray.

As it was clear there would be no help coming from this quarter, Stella made her way to the boarding house where Angie had been living since that last awful place. Having never actually been to the building, she was relieved to find it a clean, respectable neighborhood and a house mother every bit as prickly and nosy as Angie had moaned on about. It required a significant level of both placation and attitude to pry a forwarding address from Mrs. Fry and that was only forthcoming after Stella had convinced her that she was indeed Angie's mother. Such was the drawback of her angel's favoring her father's sweet good looks rather than her own stronger features.

Mrs. Fry managed to get in the last word as she handed over a scrap of paper and a few pieces of mail. "I wish you luck on your scavenger hunt, Mrs. Martinelli. When you do find your wayward daughter, you can inform her that I am unamused at the prank of this address left behind by those two. Riverdale, indeed."

Stella actually had to agree with the unpleasant woman as she eyed the address.

Riverdale indeed.

~ * ~ * ~

Ever the pragmatist, Stella decided that it was too late in the day to begin an adventure so many miles from home and reluctantly took the subway home and the extra coins for an extra trip would just have to be accommodated. The Brooklyn neighborhood closed its familiar arms around her and she absently answered hellos and snippets of gossip. Just another day, one she would have enjoyed had she not been worried for her angel.

Charlie merely laughed off her concerns as he kissed her neck before moving to wash his hands in the sink, just as he had done every day for nearly thirty years. 

"Cara Mia, you fret too much! Angelica can take care of herself. You made sure of that."

That he used their only daughter's given name spoke of his own worry. Despite that, the family kept to their comforting routines of meals and relaxation and sleep before the new workday began. Feeling guilty about missing yet another day of helping in the busy shop, Stella hesitated until Charlie hugged her and laughed.

"Go on then, find the rich fool who has turned our angel's head! Give him a piece of your mind, my fierce bella, and call a policeman should you need one!"

"Scemo [Idiot]," she told him fondly and Charlie kissed her before going on to bellow at the boys to get to work. It was easy to forget how big New York was when one rarely left their neighborhood. Feeling very much like a tourist just as she always did when traveling so far from familiar territory, Stella kept a close eye out on her surroundings. She did not gape, or flinch or marvel even when changing trains at the sprawling splendor of Grand Central Station. That all changed when the passing scenery changed from the gleam of downtown to the quiet greenery of Riverdale. So startling was the lushness of the setting that Stella almost missed her stop. The air breezing up the Hudson River was bracing, but held the promise of the coming summer. There was a long strip of park running along the water to the south and opulent neighborhoods to her north.

"Well, come on then," she muttered to herself and fondled the little slip of paper and the mail in her coat pocket as she set out.

Too many hours later, Stella was exhausted, hungry and utterly lost. The walking had been interminable, the streets confusing and now she was at the edges of the largest expanse of grass and trees she had ever laid eyes on. Where was she now?

Thankfully, a helpful policeman happened by the park and offered not just his aid with the problem of where the mystery house was, but offered a ride in his black and white patrol vehicle. The quiet little avenue was well-hidden amidst the old trees, the street curved around in a senseless way. They were both impressed with the enormous gates and the lush greenery beyond. Feeling as though she had been cast in a motion picture without her knowledge, Stella was grateful for the policeman's authority in opening the gate and the presence of his uniform and car as they drove up the wandering lane to a huge, beautiful house.

Neither of them moved for a long moment. Then Stella swallowed and stood up out of the car, clutching her purse.

"This had better not be a prank, Angel," she muttered darkly and the policeman covered a huff of laughter with a cough into his fist. Back ramrod straight, chin raised, the simple orphan girl from Brooklyn strode to the massive wooden door with attitude and rang the bell. With effort she didn't flinch at the church-like roll of low bells from inside and stood quietly, ignoring the policeman's quiet presence beside the car. Moments dragged on and Stella's irritation and worry for her lone daughter only grew. There was no way that the insane story about this house could be true. What was she doing here on this porch as though she were going to ask the residents for a hand out?

"Ma'am," the policeman began, but was interrupted by the arrival of another car.

~ * ~ * ~

"… and then Frankie stepped up and told him to soak his head. It was hilarious!"

"Frankie is one of your brother?"

"No, that's the cousin with the dog."

"Who's nose you broke."

"Aw, don't you start in too. He still moans on about that, ten years later. It was an accident!"

As seemed to be a constant in Peggy's life, she was warmly amused by the constant cheer of her friend, the stream of chatter and sunshine that seemed to Angie like breathing. Meeting Jarvis' eyes in the review mirror, she traded a smirk with him. It was the first time since moving into the huge house the women had utilized his assistance, but a grocery run seemed like a good time to unbend. Abruptly, his gaze jerked away and the car wobbled infinitesimally.

"Miss Carter," Jarvis said quietly, his voice low and strained and even Angie went instantly silent and wary. "The gate is open."

Approaching the house slowly, the car crunched over gravel and cobblestone as Peggy tightened her hold on her purse and the pistol inside of it.

"A police wagon?" 

Angie was the only one to verbalize the confusion they all felt. The uniformed policeman turned to acknowledge the newly arrived vehicle with a pleasant expression tinged with wariness. Even as the Packard pulled up to the police unit, Peggy was stepping out to address the officer. A greeting that was aborted as Angie's shocked, squeaky exclamation burst through the quiet afternoon.

"Mammina! What…?"

Tall and slim and with a haughty posture that Peggy immediately approved of, the woman in the shadows of the doorway stepped out into the sunshine. The most recognizable thing about her was the barely constrained riot of caramel colored curls no amount of technology could duplicate and the strong features and bronzy skin of Mediterranean decent. Angie was built just like her, just smaller.

"You never called back, Angelica."

The dry comment, laced with humor and irritation, made Peggy bite back a smile even as a different sort of alarm blasted through her. Still shocked, Angie was nonetheless drawn to the familiarity and safety of her mother, clinging tight to the older woman. The policeman smiled and tipped his hat at Peggy and Jarvis before quietly taking his leave, civic duty clearly done. 

"I'm so sorry, Mama, I just lost track of things and been so crazy busy getting used to this crazy place and everything that's happened and I'm so happy to see you."

Angie's babbling was adorable, but Peggy was distracted by a subtle pointed look from Jarvis, echoing the expression. They'd gotten better at the discrete game with practice during the shenanigans to clear Howard and save New York City, but none of them had dealt with an intimate such as an immediate family member.

"There's no avoiding it, Miss Carter. Go say hello and I will tend to the groceries."

Scowling briefly, Peggy had no argument and hesitantly approached the Martinelli women. 

"I could hardly stay away, now could I? This is a wild tale, even for you."

Stella was taken aback by the effusive welcome, for her Angie had grown standoffish as she grew up, their closeness never quite the same as they had been when her Angel has been such a free-spirited child.

"It is, I know. But it's… complicated too."

Tilting Angie's chin up, Stella smiled warmly, drinking in the summery blue eyes so like her father's and stroking over her crown. Then her own hazel gaze flickered over to the odd party out, hovering awkwardly at the edge of polite distance.

"I imagine this is your Peggy?"

The brunette's clear startle was hilarious and oddly charming and earned a watery laugh from Angie. "Yeah, yeah, sorry English, c'mere. Mama, Peggy Carter, Pegs, this is my mother, Stella Martinelli."

There was the strangest pause in Peggy's reacting to the introduction, not quite a flinch, before she smiled and stepped closer with hand extended. But the pause needed no explanation, for Stella understood from being a survivor of a difficult life herself. The shadows in the dark eyes were of things better left unseen, things that left scars deeper than the physical, things that had torn Europe apart in ways that pictures couldn't truly convey. The exotic accent that matched the clearly affectionate nickname hardly surprised Stella after seeing those emotional shadows, even if she had never heard one live and up close before.

"A pleasure, Mrs. Martinelli."

"Likewise, Miss Carter, but I'm going to guess we can dispense with the formalities, yes?"

They shook hands even as Stella tucked Angie against her side and absorbed the blooming warmth of the new woman's smile.

"I think that would be lovely… Stella."

What an intriguing mix of awkward and bold she was! Just the sort Angie liked, never one for the easy road in any walk of life. Their hands fell away, leaving each curious where the other's calluses had come from, but not familiar enough to ask.

"You need a hand there, Fancy?"

No completely accustomed to the younger woman's sass quite yet, Jarvis sighed and resettled his grip on the half dozen cloth bags and a pair of laden baskets he bore with proper British aplomb. "I'm quite all right, Miss Martinelli. If someone would be so kind as to get the door, I will get these things put away."

Stella couldn't help her startled look and she helplessly echoed her daughter's grin.

"I collect 'em, what can I say."

The burst of laughter from the elder Martinelli could not be contained.

~ * ~ * ~

It was quite understandable that Stella was overwhelmed by the sheer opulence and size of the house. Frankly, it hardly seemed real and much of Angie's chatter didn't really register completely. The deprivations that had drawn Stella's parents from their native lands and then left her orphaned far too young, the Great Depression and the pair of Great Wars, all these had left their scars. To wander through this museum of a home was a culture shock that would take some getting used to. The murmur of lyrical British accents drew them to the kitchen where Stella could gawk in the sudden quiet.

"Might I interest you in a cup of coffee or perhaps some juice?" Jarvis finally asked politely and Stella nodded distractedly while she wandered around to take in the magnificent appointments that Angie had gushed on about. Grinning, Angie took over getting a refreshment for her completely distracted mother, not quite hip checking the tall man aside to return to sorting groceries.

"So, Howard Stark?"

Peggy almost coughed into her cup while Jarvis and Angie both flinched at Stella's sudden question. The hazel gaze was alert now, Stella having set aside her shock in order to start digging for answers. There were so many fascinating silent undercurrents going on in the room that she hardly knew where to look. Angie was rubbing her forehead in an exasperated gesture she recognized as coming from herself while Peggy and the butler were having some sort of completely silent argument with nothing but a riot of facial expressions. The eyebrows in particular were fascinating.

"Howard and I met during the war on an Allied task force. Impossibly, he endeared himself to me in the manner of an obnoxious younger brother one loves despite oneself," Peggy explained with careful deliberation and Jarvis picked up the thread with a wry smile.

"He does that, yes."

"This is a very generous gift from a man with quite a reputation."

The blunt statement made Angie gawk at her mother, but the Brits both smiled faintly. 

"A well-eared reputation," Peggy sassed, her dark eyes on Jarvis, who gave her a mockingly sour look. "Isn't it, Mister Jarvis?"

With every ounce of prim dignity he could muster, Jarvis did his best to verbally outmaneuver his friend, eyes not quite narrowed. "Mister Stark is a rouge to be certain, but I can vouch that this… arrangement is merely between comrades and coworkers. If you fear for the lady's virtue, Mrs. Martinelli, I'm certain that Miss Carter would be happy to tell you about the tale involving the River Thames?"

Caught between a glare and a grin, Peggy narrowed her eyes back at him as Angie stifled snickering.

"Don't you have somewhere to be, Mister Jarvis?"

Angie couldn't stop her laughter.

~ * ~ * ~

The women were amused to be shooed away from the kitchen once they had refreshments in hand.

"Trust me, Mammina, Peggy put the fear of god in him to stay away from me. 'Sides, I only met the guy once and he looked like someone had shot his dog. Tough day I guess."

The wry look exchanged between Angie and Peggy spoke of what a day it had been; Chief Dooley's death, the evil Russian doctor nearly sending a boggled Howard with enough poison gas to send half of New York into an animal frenzy of death and crazy assassin Dottie to boot. It had certainly been one for the books, even as it was all a big secret.

"Regardless of his millionaire-genius status," Peggy mused with a smirk, "we made him help move our things out of the Griffith and into this house. Getting one's hands dirty is good for the constitution."

"Besides, I think he likes it when you boss him around."

"Cheeky."

"Duh."

The easy affection between them was sweet, Stella noted as she watched her daughter with this charismatic and enigmatic stranger. Angie had always been drawn to the odd and difficult; stray dogs, wild birds, troublemakers and outcasts. While Peggy might not seem to fit that on her calm surface, there were those shadows Stella had seen flicker in the dark eyes and over her striking face. Not while looking at her, no, but when that restless intensity rested on Angie, a calm vulnerability fell over Peggy in contrast to the shadows. In turn, Angie thrived under the broody intensity as though it were the electrified third rail beneath the subway trains.

Fascinating.

"So, you probably wanna know how we ended up here?"

Stella would have berated the sass, but had it ever worked with this irrepressible child? Her mock disapproving look made Angie laugh musically and Peggy hid a smile behind her cup.

"It all boils down to bein' Howard Stark's fault."

In anticipation of a comment, Angie looked expectantly at Peggy, who obliged by sighing dramatically. "Doesn't it always?"

"That's my English! Turns out not only did his sneakin' around the Griffith get us both thrown out, I think he mighta had something to do with that big explosion downtown a couple weeks ago. Nearly got Pegs fired over that on top of gettin' her homeless, and me because we're friends. Mrs. Fry's a mean old biddy for sure."

This was Angie's element, the spotlight bright and her audience-- no matter how small-- enraptured and entertained.

"I read about that explosion in the paper. Was anyone hurt?"

The torque of deep hurt flinch that rattled Peggy startled Stella. Instantly sobered, Angie shifted closer to her on the couch, pressing her forehead to the Englishwoman's temple in an odd embrace.

"I lost a coworker that day, yes."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It was unexpected and called up memories I would just as soon forget."

The ghosts of war clung close to her. The Martinelli clan had been blessed to have kept their son's feet on home soil for various reasons, but Stella knew the scars of war from extended family, from the missing men that once walked the neighborhoods she had lived in her whole life. Deliberately straightening up and shaking off the melancholy, Stella watched the younger women echo her body language, focusing away from the inner shadows.

"Were you a customer at the automat?" 

It was an abrupt change in the conversation, but they all latched onto it gratefully.

"I was. I wandered in one day and found the coffee and pie enjoyable, but the company moreso." Peggy's fondly exasperated look made Angie beam the sweet smile that had let her get away with anything since she was in diapers. "Unfathomably, I even grew fond of the ridiculous pet name."

Completely pleased with herself, Angie bumped shoulders with her friend and turned her merriment back to her mother. "Her sexist, fathead coworkers were-- well still are-- jerks. So I took it as a challenge to cheer her up."

"Ostensibly, I work for the administrative branch of the phone company. As you can imagine, that doesn't go over well with some and it does become draining far too often. Ironically, the emergency involving that unexpected explosion allowed me to gain some respect. Cooler heads do sometimes prevail after all."

"Even I wheedled a job out of it, so Peggy didn't have so much secretarial stuff dumped on her. Who knew I'd sorta like it!"

"Your father knew," Stella teased dryly and smiled at Peggy's small huff of amusement and a dramatic eye roll from Angie.

"Yeah, he's going to hassle me over that, huh?"

"Only with love, Bambina."

Mollified by the conversation and reassured that her baby was in good hands, Stella was content to let the other two entertain her with lighthearted stories. While it was glaringly obvious that Peggy in particular was editing her words, it was clear that her wartime experiences were something she couldn't speak about freely. It was also obvious that Howard Stark held no sway over either of them and was in awe of Peggy, so Stella let that worry go as well.

In the midst of the third 'and then it exploded' story involving the eccentric genius, the man in the kitchen they'd all forgotten about bustled in bearing a tray of nibblies and a tea set that thankfully contained good, black coffee.

"Speaking of Mister Stark, I am reminded; shall I do my best to herd him into finally setting a time for a meeting so that you might gain some peace of mind for this proposed business venture, Miss Carter? We're both aware that the telephone company is little challenge for you."

Angie coughed on crumbs when she tried to stifle a laugh and Peggy gave Jarvis a flat look. "He is a bit like herding cats. And I'm doing just fine at the telephone company, thank you." His skeptical look was both amusing and made Stella curious. Her expression must have said so because Peggy sighed. "Howard has gotten into his head that I could be more valuable making him money rather than working at something benefiting society."

Angie's laughter pealed out as she nearly collapsed onto her side; even Jarvis had to swallow a smile. The exasperated affection Peggy clearly held for the missing man was so much like an older sister for her aggravating little brother that Stella was reminded powerfully of her own brood over the years. It was as good a place as any to wrap up the visit and Stella drained her delicate little china cup with relish.

"This has been a lovely visit, Angel, but it's time for me to be getting home to the menfolk. They'll starve to death without me."

Jarvis was remarkably persistent and while Stella absolutely refused the offered ride home, she did concede to allow him to drive her to the subway station. Frankly, her feet were still sore from all of the earlier walking and she was grateful for the assist. Mother and daughter hugged tightly near the door, both missing the other as they always did. 

"I'm sorry about worrying you, Mammina," Angie whispered as she clung. "But I can't say I'm sorry for the visit, even if you gave me a shock."

"It was quite a scavenger hunt you sent me on, child, but it was worth it to see that you're doing well. Now, you make some time to come see your father. You know he would never take so much time away from the shop."

"Yes ma'am, I promise."

Again just at the edge of polite distance, Peggy waited politely, her small smile warm as the Martinelli women turned their attention to her. An offered hand brought her over to shake hands. "It was good to meet you, Peggy. Both of you take care and don't let this one show up without you. Don't look so surprised at the invitation, we're very Italian like that."

That made Peggy smile for real, wiping away her faint surprise. "I would be delighted, Stella, thank you. Have a safe trip home."

Patting Angie's cheek affectionately, Stella swept out and allowed Jarvis to open her door and whisk her away. 

"Never let it be said that the Martinelli women don't know how to make an exit," Angie commented as she leaned against Peggy's side for a loose hug. For her part, Peggy chuckled in appreciation for the odd afternoon and meeting the woman who had shaped her dear friend.


End file.
